


The Prison and The Priest

by grapenight



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapenight/pseuds/grapenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon's life has been on a downward spiral, and he's not done yet. Other people have different plans for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning, Because, Really, Is There Something Better To Call It?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new chaptered fic, and yeah, there's a lot more to come, more characters, more pairings more fandoms, all that good stuff. I already tagged it with Ryden though, because it's heading that way, I promise. In order to read this, please forget everything you know about the justice world, and the bandom world. I am making this up as I go, because it's a lot more fun that way. Ooo, and Pete's a cop, again! I guess I just like him like that, who knew? Also he's a pretty strange cop. I don't know, I just like playing with characters.

No one was here to save me this time. I guess I probably shouldn't be surprised. Any hope anyone had in me flew out the window after I arrested, again. You can't expect people to stick around for a third time. The problem was that this time, unlike the first two, was serious. I could be facing jail time. I couldn't even imagine myself in jail, I would totally be the kid that get's raped. I mean, fuck it, I already look gay enough, they'd probably think I'd enjoy it! 

If my mother were in my thoughts right now she'd tell me that I'm getting what I deserve for becoming a bad person. Am I a bad person? What exactly is the qualification for being a bad person? Murder? Or saying a mean thing to someone? Kicking a puppy? Or just not caring about something? 

See, if someone were to ask me what made a bad person, I'd probably say someone that has no redeeming qualities, someone who is just awful. But if you think about it, how many people do you know that fit that description? And how many people do you know that you would qualify as bad people? I'm willing to bet there not the same amount, are they? 

I really don't think I'm a bad person. I think I might've just done some bad things. Actually, a lot of bad things, and I'm not really done yet. It's not like I've killed anyone, though! My bad things mostly come from bad ideas. 

Like the first time I got arrested (note, this isn't they first time I've gotten in trouble, this is just the first time they hauled me in town for it), a group of friends and I decided to break into this kids house. He was literally they dumbest kid ever, but not in a retarded way or anything, he just didn't know shit. But he happened to be born to a guy who ran a huge company, so he was richer than anything. 

We decided to rob him, maybe steal a game system, or maybe money we found lying around. It wouldn't be anything they kid couldn't just buy himself. Well, he probably couldn't, he'd forget what they were called. He could send his mother at least. 

Of course, my group of friends consisting of just out of high school teenagers, we weren't the masters of thievery. Looking back, we probably couldn't have done the job worse than we did. All of my lucky ass friends didn't get caught by the cops, though. They all made sure they got away as soon as we heard them. I decided to test my luck. I think it's here when my streak of dumbness started. 

That whole episode didn't turn out to be that big of a deal, because it's not like I actually got to steal anything. It was forgotten about soon enough. Well, by everyone but my family. They're Mormon, super ones at that. So I was on shaky water with them from that moment, but they hadn't quite given up on me then. I was still their cute little baby Brendon, I just fell into the completely wrong crowd. They decided to send me into group therapy then. 

A helpful hint to anyone with aspiring criminals as kids, don't send them to hang out with other messed up kids. I promise you won't enjoy the results if you do. That was when I got in trouble for drunk driving. I only was in jail for a week then, and it was only the city one, not a big deal. 

It was big enough for my parents, though, and that was when they broke all ties with me. I was all alone in my mission to fuck myself up. Basing off of how long I could spent in jail for my latest crime (stole a car, by the way), I was doing a pretty good job on that front. 

The cop I was now talking to completely agreed with me. "Son, why did you do this? I'm looking at your high school records, and you were a perfect student until your senior year, and even then you weren't that bad." 

I looked at the cops nametag. Wentz. Ha, like, he came, he wentz. How much trouble would I get in if I said that? Is it too much? Maybe I'll save it for later. "Listen, Mr., Wentz, I'll go far enough to assume you're a mister, but I think it all went downhill when they ended Lizzie McGuire. I mean, just what is a boy supposed to do with his life when his whole entire life is taken from beneath him. It totally had at least three more seasons in it." 

The officer stood up, definitely irritated, and grunted, "We've had enough of your sass boy. You think you can just keep messing with other people's lives just to get some sort of enjoyment of yours, but I'll tell you right now, you won't be committing anymore crimes. Not while I'm alive." 

"Oh, I'm sure. Just like an alcoholic won't touch a drop of alcohol! I can assure you no after school service deal would help me. Maybe I'm just purely fucked up, some people are!"  
The officer shakes his head, "You aren't, you just need to try a little harder." 

He slammed the door shut, probably for emphasis, or maybe just because I was pissing him off. Who knew? 

It was awhile before anything happened. I was being held in one of their super special holding rooms, and since I was a sarcastic shit, no really I had gotten a cop to call me that, no one wanted to have to spend any length of time with me. Can't say I blame them. Around five, a quiet secretary brought me dinner. It was sucky ass dinner, and I tried to flirt the girl into giving me some better food. She was totally Brendon proof, though, so I figured she might actually have a gaydar. A lot of people don't, you'd really be surprised. Or maybe it's just the fact that they see what they want, and they aren't going to let anything get in their way. I've slept with a bunch of girls to get things I wanted, so it all actually worked out well. 

I couldn't sleep myself into a good meal, though, at least not with that girl. Maybe I could try the Wentz dude. I had never really tied it on a guy before, it probably wouldn't work, but I could probably get him to go for it if anyone. He totally seemed like the type. 

Shortly after my food came, Wentz came back into my room. Hey, I got my chance sooner than expected. 

"Don't try to tell me any shit, Urie, I'm not here for that," he said immediately. Maybe he was smarted than I gave him credit for. "You'll be out of here in the morning, I'm sending you somewhere special, and boy, will you have fun." 

He left then, apparently not in the mood for conversation. Darn, I really was hoping to discuss all the great qualities of Lizzie McGuire with him. Maybe next time I'm here, because soon enough, there will be a next time, I can guarantee it.


	2. Meet the Priest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of all, I just wondered if I had gotten myself into more than I could handle.

The next morning I was woken up by someone hitting my head. "Not cool, man!" I called out, still groggy from sleep. In my post sleep confusion, I wondered why my childhood bed had suddenly gotten a heck of a lot less comfortable. The I remembered I haven't lived with my parents for months and that I'm in jail. Oh, yep, that's what you missed this week on Glee. Although I do have to say if I was on Glee, I would be one of the badass singing dudes, right? I was actually a pretty good singer, not that anyone really cared. Maybe when I'm in jail I can be the lead in all of the musicals! I'm tiny, but I don have nice looks, pale skin, dark hair, big lips and hips, I would be wonderful to watch onstage. 

The person whacked me on the head again and said, "Stop fooling around, and get up. You're leaving, now." 

It was then I noticed it was Wentz. "Oh, Mr. Wentz, I've missed you dearly! I think we need to catch up a little before you just send me away, don't you? I know I missed you smiling face, oh so much!" 

He continued to frown throughout me declarations. "Kid, I really am helping you out here. I'll expect an apology from you in a couple months, and note, I enjoy expensive flowers. Only the expensive kinds, though. Now, get up and follow me." 

I decide to listen to him this time, mostly because I'm too tired to put up a good fight. When I'm in my best shape, I can sling words at someone like a freaking poet, but one in the annoying, dumbass way. I'm good at what I do. 

I'm handcuffed and led through the station like a freak show, or that's what you'd think by watching the whole thing. "Did I grow a third eyeball over night? Or an arm? Another arm could be helpful for certain things." 

Wentz yanked my arm, "Shut up, small stuff." 

That made me mad. First of all, I am most definitely taller than Wentz, and I'm not that small! Okay, I have a small frame and I just barely fill that out, but I don't need people pointing that out. I'm a fucking criminal, you don't make fun of us, right? 

We end up in a cruiser, me shoved in the backseat and Wentz in the front. I decide to stay quiet for the ride, because I just don't have anything to say. I do want to know where I'm going, but I figure I'll find out when I get there. More than likely the big county jail, woo, scary. 

But I was surprised to see that we stopped in front of an old farm house, in the middle of practically nowhere. There were some houses on down the road, but there wasn't much else other than fields and woods. It was not what I had expected. 

Before I had even gotten to question anything, Wentz said, "Don't say anything, just follow me," as he opened to car door for me. This has got to be the weirdest thing that's happened to me in at least a week. Maybe two. 

Wentz walks up to the door and knocks, and an older man comes to the door not long after. He's in his fifties or sixties, and is wearing a dress up shirt and black slacks. He looks like an outstanding member of society. Now what am I doing here? 

"Pete," He said happily. "Nice to see you again! I'm guessing this is the prisoner?" 

This guy seemed like the type who was always happy. And it seemed like Wentz (Pete, I'm guessing) is one of his best friends. He's probably like that with everyone.

"Yeah, he is. He's kind of a piece of work right now, but I know he's in the best hands. Please fix this kid up, god knows he needs it." 

"Yes, he does," The guy agrees, and I realize he's a religious person. Ha, Wentz thought that would help me out? Did he not realize that I was raised by people just like this, and I still turned out this way, so it's probably not the best idea. Dumbass. 

Wentz turned to me then. "This is the Priest. You either call him that or Mr. Mike, so no dumb names, got it? And you're to listen to him, at all times. Keep in mind that I'm doing you a favor. We send people to Mr. Mike for help, but only when we think they're savable." 

I scoff, "You think you can fix me? It'll be fun to see you try." 

The Priest spoke up then. "Brendon, it is Brendon, right? Well, my boy, just you wait, you'll be singing a different tune soon."   
I shake my head at the pure dumbness of the geezer. He doesn't know shit, does he? 

Wentz left the, saying, "I'll be back in a week to make sure the little ass isn't causing too many problems." 

"I'll see you then, Pete! Tell Patrick I said hello, okay?" The Priest called, and Pete nodded as he got in and drove away. So I was really staying here. At this farm house, in the middle of nowhere. What was I even supposed to do? 

"So, they call you Mr. Mike. Are you aware that sounds like a really bad rapper's name?" I guess I would have to spend my time harassing the Priest. I'd probably get some kind of enjoyment from seeing what makes the old man tick. 

"Yes, but if you'd like you can call me the Priest. Even though I'm not one anymore, the name kind of sticks. And I can't ask people who have called me that their entire lives call me something else, I just don't have the heart, you know? And I can't let people get confused by people calling me the Priest. It's really a whole complicated ordeal, really, I suggest you stick with one name you entire life." 

I stare at him as he talks, not really registering much of it. Did he think I needed his entire life story? Because I certainly didn't, and I also sure as hell didn't want it. 

The Priest continued, "Okay, then, since you're here, it's time for breakfast!" He walked off to the kitchen merrily. Is that how normal people work? You get a criminal in your house and you make breakfast for them? I had a distinct feeling that wasn't how it went. 

I followed him into what must be the kitchen anyways. He was running around from the stove to the fridge. "Sit, sit!" he motioned to me. 

As I continued to stand, completely ignoring the crazy old man, he noticed I was still cuffed. "Oh, how could I have forgotten that? You really need to speak up more." 

"You should ask your friend Wentz what he thinks about that. He'd probably say that I should speak up a lot less," I pointed out as he unlocked my handcuffs. 

"Now, I doubt that. Pete may seem a bit strange, but he really does have a pure heart. And when he cares about someone, he cares deeply and passionately. He's such a great guy, you're lucky he noticed you. A little thing like yourself would certainly not fair well in prison, because of your appearance and your overall innocence. I know you may talk big, and you've made some mistakes, but I know you're still good at heart," the Priest droned on. "Oh, and don't even think about leaving, because if you escape you'll be in big boy prison, and I'll make sure you're the target of every guy in there. Just watch yourself." 

I stare at the priest, completely lost for words. What kind of priest was he? Also, what the heck was even going on with this situation? Did he just make people better people by lecturing them with craziness for a month? 

Most of all, I just wondered if I had gotten myself into more than I could handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two!!! ANyways, I think this'll turn out nicely, I'm certainly excited. I'll probably spend the next couple of weeks doing this instead of homework, but it'll be worth it definitely. So expect all chapters to be about this long. I'm good at writing about a 1000 words at a time before I get worn out and everything turns crappy. More reason why posting this in chapters is a good idea!


	3. Things Might Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few years ago, I set up a program, one for people how have a chance, who really aren't bad, and who just need a chance to see it themselves. You're on of those people, or that's at least what Pete thinks. He's sees a lot of potential in you. You could be a shining star, if only you knew how to get there. The program allows me to take a person who has gotten in trouble, and keep them here, instead of the county jail. You're still a prisoner, don't think you get off free or anything, but if I can see a huge change in your character, after a few months, you'll be released, hopefully with a new view on life.

After breakfast, the Priest showed me to my room. I didn't actually get a room though, I'm a convict, he would be truly stupid to let that happen. No, he had a bunk bed, and the top bunk was mine. It's like church camp, isn't it? 

"At night, I'll handcuff you to the bed, so you can't go anywhere. There are some drawers over there for you to put your clothes into. You can get settled while I handle some things, then we'll go for a ride in the truck," the Priest said. He made me feel like a little kid, I mean, going for a ride? Am I three? 

I didn't have very many clothes, just the small amount that I was allowed to take with me when I was arrested. I guess one good thing about this setup was that I wouldn't have to wear an orange jumpsuit, or anything hideous in that manner. At least I was pretty sure I didn't have to. I realized then that I really had o idea what would be going on here. Why hadn't I thought to ask Wentz that? Shouldn't there be some law against this? I didn't know, and I kind of wish I did. Did they teach this kind of stuff in college? I doubt it. Is it just common knowledge that I had killed away with killing my brain cells from my various poor choices? 

I decided that it wasn't, I was just crappy with knowing any sort of legal manners. I still really should find out what the heck is going on. 

"Hey, Priest!" I called out. "What exactly is going on here?" 

The Priest came back into the room and asked, "What do you mean?" 

"With my whole situation. I'm not in jail, I should be in jail, exactly how is this happening?" Frankly, I thought this was all extremely stupid. What did they even think would happen, really? Was I just supposed to magically turn into some saint? And some dumbass priest is supposed to make that happen, like that would even be possible, I don't care who he is, no one can fix me. 

I did have to admit that it was kind of nice to not be in jail. Only because I'm not ready to get raped yet! I'm not saying I'm thankful to Wentz and the dumbass Priest or anything, I could've taken care of myself with no problem, I didn't need their pity, sympathy, or whatever moved them to do this. Maybe this was worse, in the long run, than jail would've been, and they just wanted some good entertainment. I bet that's what happened, it makes much more sense than any of the other options. 

"You're here to get better. Pete and I, we've been around, we've seen how people react in different situations. And a few years ago, I set up a program, one for people how have a chance, who really aren't bad, and who just need a chance to see it themselves. You're on of those people, or that's at least what Pete thinks. He's sees a lot of potential in you. You could be a shining star, if only you knew how to get there. The program allows me to take a person who has gotten in trouble, and keep them here, instead of the county jail. You're still a prisoner, don't think you get off free or anything, but if I can see a huge change in your character, after a few months, you'll be released, hopefully with a new view on life," the Priest says, and he has this look on his face, like he knew I'd be a great person. 

What a load of crap. I have enough brain cells not to say this, luckily, instead I say, "What am I supposed to do while I'm here?" 

He smiles, and I swear if I didn't know he was a Priest, I would say the smile was hiding buckets of evil. "You'll find out soon enough." 

I tried to get more out of him, but he just brushed me off. After enough of my begging, which he completely ignored, he went downstairs and grabbed his keys from a bowl on the kitchen counter. "Come on, son, we're going for a ride." 

I held back my snide comments about him calling me son, but seriously, who does he think he is, and followed him. After being in the house for only three hours, tops, I was already bored. I always had too much energy for my own good, that was one thing about me that seemed like it would never change. 

The Priest's truck fit his house perfectly. It was old, rusty, and where it wasn't rust, a light blue that matched the sky when it was slightly cloudy. There weren't any clouds in the sky today, though, which was a shame, because clouds were awesome. I knew it was kind of childish, but I loved finding shapes in the clouds, I did so whenever I could. Whenever I'm not terrorizing the population, I find things in the clouds. I'm a very complicated person, got to go deeper to get the whole package. 

"Just a reminder," the priest said as we got into the truck, "If you try to escape, you will end up in prison." 

With that reminder, I also remembered his subtle threat earlier. Yeah, escaping's not really my area, anyways. He drives off into area's that I had never even been before, even after living in this city my whole life. It was weird to think about the fact that there were so, so many cities just like this out in the world, that the world was so big, yet I haven't even completely explored the one I've spent my entire life in. Sometimes everything seems too big. 

The Priest stops in a random field. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about this field. I had no idea why we were here, what could the purpose be? 

I follow him out of the truck anyways, expecting him to show me what the point behind this was. Was it his weird treatment system to my misbehavior? Because, if it was, it was a really sucky method. It probably only made me want to commit more crimes, truthfully. 

He just sits down, in the field. 

I stand by him, while he just sits there, doing who the fuck knows what. 

After way too long, I finally ask, "What is the fucking point of this?" I was getting very irritated, because really, this was just weird.

The Priest sighed, like I was missing the most obvious thing in the world. "What?" I ask curtly. "Is this some kind of weird ass way to get me to be good? Sitting in a fucking field? I can already see how this whole thing is going to work out, just fucking wonderful!" 

The Priest has no visible reaction. His face remains blank, and it only made me more mad. He stands up, finally, and goes back to the truck. I follow him, but when I try to open the door, it's locked. What? 

I look at the Priest, trying to signal that I was locked out, and I know he saw me, but he paid no mind. He started up the truck, then fucking pulled away! 

And he kept telling me not to run away? When he would just leave me out in the middle of a field? This guy obviously has no idea what he's doing. 

"Hey!" I yell after him, thinking maybe it was a mistake. Deep down I knew it wasn't, but I just couldn't figure out why he would do it. I said some choice words, but it wasn't that bad. I've said worse to my parents, and it didn't bother them that much. They're done with me now, but that wasn't because of some dumb things I said. 

The Priest actually gets on the road and starts to drive away, albeit slowly. Since I had no idea what to do, my brain decided that the best idea would be to run after him. I eventually catch up with him, because he is actually going that slow. As I run beside the truck, he rolls down the window. 

"What the fuck?" I ask. "If you don't want me to run away, you probably shouldn't leave me random places." 

"You can walk to my house. It's not that far. And while you're doing it, why don't you pick up whatever trash you see. I'll be driving along side you." The Priest says, before tossing a large trash bag and one of those trash grabber things. Really, this is what's happening? He leaves me in some random field to do some community service? 

"Um, how about no?" I say. 

"Jail, Brendon," The Priest reminds me. "Imagine what all the real criminals could do to a little boy like you?" 

My face turns red from anger, I can feel it heating up, but I pick the bag and grabbing thing off of the ground anyway. I'm not doing this for any reason other than I'm not quite ready to go to jail, yet. Besides, the environment needs some cleaning up, I'm doing a good deed here, helping the earth. 

It turns out to be harder work than I had originally thought, especially with the hot summer sun shining down. Twenty minutes in, and no where near the Priest's house, I am covered in a layer of sweat and my breathing is slightly heavy. I keep up for about another half a mile before my legs start to tire, and it becomes hard to continue walking at suck a fast pace and picking up trash. When my decreasing speed becomes great noticable, the Priest finally say, get in the back. 

"Isn't that kind of illegal?" I ask. 

"Isn't it a little ironic that a criminal is worried about breaking a law?" the Priest shoots back. From a guy with grey hair, he certainly had some decent comebacks, I had to admit, as much as it hurt to. 

I do my best to climb into the back, which turns out to be a feat of it's own, considering he's still moving. Sure, he's barely moving, but it was still really difficult. When I finally get in the back, I completely flop down on my back. I was exhausted, my shirt was damp from the sweat, and I was suddenly wishing I had done some sort in high school to keep myself in shape. I could've totally done gymnastics, that would have been awesome. 

Once I'm in the truck, the Priest speeds up a lot, and soon we're back at his house. As we get closer, I notice that there's another vehicle in the driveway, one that was definitely not there when we had left. Did the Priest have a visitor? 

He seemed just as surprised as I was, and when he noticed the person themselves, who was sitting in the driver's seat, waiting, he got even more surprised. I wondered who it was, and what was about to happen. Hopefully I could find out. 

As we pull into the driveway, I get tired of looking over the edge of the truck, so I lay back down on the bed of the truck. It was surprising comfortable, which was helped by the fact that I was to worn out to really notice if it wasn't. 

As he pulled up beside the visitor, I called out, "Hey, Priest, I might just take a nap right here. That okay with you?" 

He just said, "Brendon," in a tone that implied that he didn't want to deal with my shit right now. I was surprised at how well he knew me after just a couple of hours. It also made me more interested about why the person was here. Obviously it went a little deeper than just a friendly visit. Yay, I needed some drama, really, being arrested just doesn't give you enough. 

I could hear the Priest's door closed, followed by the other guy's door. "Ryan," the Priest said, a confused ton of voice now. "Why are you here?" 

The last part he said very drawn out, like it was hard to come up with. Oh yeah, there was definitely some story behind this. Maybe I could use my stay at the Priest's like a soap opera, only in real life. I was never really fond of soaps, but when they were the only fucking thing on, it was surprisingly easy to get into. And I could definitely picture myself getting into some real life drama. 

"I had..." The guy, apparently Ryan said, trailing off. "I don't know, I felt like I had to come, I needed to talk to you, I needed to know-" 

"Alright, alright, why don't you come inside we can talk there," the Priest interrupted Ryan. Whoa, man, this kind of sounded like they had gone through a bad breakup or something. Oh, fuck, was this Priest one of the one's who raped the kids whose parents trusted him with? Oh no, that is way too messed up, even for me. And the Ryan dude sounded about my age, so it was a totally possible situation. But then why would the cops trust him, if that was true? I decided that that wasn't the answer and I just have an overactive imagination. 

"Brendon," the Priest said sternly. "Get out of there, and come inside with us. Now. You don't have a say in it." 

I signed and said, "Alright," as I sat up. 

It was then that I saw Ryan. And oh holy shit, he was hot. He was almost pretty, he looked that good and delicate, and just completely fuckable, with his pretty hair and adorable nose. But that wasn't the first thing I noticed. The first thing I noticed was that Ryan looked almost... Familiar. 

He stared at me as I stared at him, but his pretty brown eyes grew a look of recognition as he looked into my plain brown ones. "Wait, your name's Brendon? Brendon Urie?" He asked. 

It was then that I recognized him. Oh. 

I guess I just got pulled into the soap opera I was watching. Turns out it's not as fun when you're in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooooo! Look who finally made it in! I had some difficulty writing this chapter, but I think it turned out okay. It might be a couple days before I post the next chapter, but i think I'm going to write a short standalone before that, just tpo give my mind a break. I hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a dream I had, and I'm pretty excited about it. I know much didn't happen in this chapter, but i had to get everything set up and give you a feel for Brendon's character, you know? It was actually kind of hard to write it at some points, it just felt so wrong, but I have a feeling he'll learn better. I was going to make it a one really long post, but I think this works better because I can post it and work through it in chunks, and not be as in a hurry to post it, thus making it a load of crap. I expect these to have a lot more work behind them, and I'm not sure how long it'll be. Hopefully pretty long,, but in a good way. Thanks!


End file.
